


these arms were made for holding you

by paigecruz



Series: food for the senses (prompt fics) [1]
Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: AU, Airport AU, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Oneshot, Prompt Fic, Romance, and riley is obsessed with his arms, will is a rambling dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4309695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paigecruz/pseuds/paigecruz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will makes himself too comfortable while waiting for his flight to Iceland. Blueski airport AU prompt fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these arms were made for holding you

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Kalagang or Blueski airport AU. Wolfie/Will accidentally naps on Kala/Riley’s shoulder/lap while waiting for their super delayed flight.
> 
> You can also read this at [ff.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11370993/1/these-arms-were-made-for-holding-you) or on [tumblr](http://pipayyy.tumblr.com/post/123710325329/these-arms-were-made-for-holding-you).

It was time. 

She fought against it for so long, but Riley thought that if she spent even just another _minute_ in this situation, she’d never regain function of her arm again.

There were the beginnings of a huge crick on her neck—as if the one she was sure to get on her impending 3 hour flight from London to Reykjavik wasn’t enough—and her arm was rapidly losing feeling, the appendage currently being used as a pillow by some stranger—a very _handsome_ stranger, from Riley’s periphery—but a stranger nonetheless.

And this particular stranger was going to make her miss her flight.

She had already made numerous attempts to wake him—poking, prodding, clearing her throat once, and then twice, and then thrice, the third time triggering a coughing reflex that made her eyes water from the effort and neighboring travelers turn to her with concerned looks on their faces.

And yet, the man reacted only by slinging an arm around her waist and nuzzling further into her hair. While the action itself was endearing, it also meant that Riley could feel his every breath against her cheek, smell his aftershave and the scent of laundry detergent in his clothes, feel the warmth of his hard body seeping into her skin…

 _Crap_. She did not like how much she liked being in his arms then. It was probably the lack of blood in her head that was getting to her. Yes, that sounded about right.

This had to end, even if a small part of her wanted to stay there for longer.

“Excuse me,” she started with a whisper, accompanied with a nudge to the knee. He stirred slightly, though his eyes remained closed. “Sir? Excuse me, sir? You’re quite heavy.” she said, a bit louder this time.

“Hmm?”

Finally, she thought as he shifted beside her, and she turned to look at him.

The first thing she noticed was his eyes—fractals of blue and grey, blinking out sleep as they regarded her lazily at first, then with confusion next, and suddenly, his pupils went wide in shock. There was a split second of breath-holding and heart-pounding and she felt it in the way his hands tightened around her briefly before he yelped and released her like a hot potato and then he backed away and tumbled off his seat, taking his carry-on luggage with him.

Riley leaned over the bench to where the man laid unmoving on the floor, an awkward display of limbs and bags and winter clothing. She held back a snicker. “Are you all right?”

He sat up at the sound of her voice, and then he was talking a mile a minute, his apologies profuse and his ears turning the shade of lipstick she liked so much as he gathered his belongings in a rush. He’s American, from the sound of it.

“Oh my god, I am so, so sorry for all of this. I swear I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, god, I weigh like a ton and your arm must be killing you? I mean, no offense but you look kind of thin—but I don’t mean that in a bad way, or anorexic-thin, I mean, you look great, pretty, beautiful even, and I like your hair and—err, um, I’m sorry again. Really. Sorry.” He wheezed like he had just sprinted a hundred meters while lit on fire.

“Are you all right?” She repeated after he finished his rambling, and somehow she heard him mutter a “Sometimes” before he threw the question back at her.

She lifted her right arm, flexed it a little, and winced. It felt like a hundred needles were pricking her skin at the moment, but her tone was light as she said, “I thought you were kidding about weighing a ton there, but now, I’m not so sure.”

The man groaned and went over his apology spiel again.

While he was busy rambling, she took the opportunity to look him over, at his cropped brown hair and his freckles and the bulk of his arms that seemed to beg to come around her. She decided she liked the way his eyes crinkled and widened and his hands flailed about as he spoke.

She stopped him again with a hand when the speakers announced the arrival of her plane. “Sorry, that’s me.”

To her surprise, he stood up with her.

“Wait! That’s me, too. The plane, I mean. Like, I’m on that plane too. I won a trip to Iceland. It was a raffle thing.” Her eyes followed his hands, which travelled to the back of his head as if to pull at his hair. His ears were turning red again, and god, it was so _adorable_ that she couldn’t help it; she giggled.

Riley Gunnarsdóttir _never_ giggled.

“I’m Riley, by the way,” she said, sticking out a hand for him to shake. He looked from her eyes to her hand and then back to her eyes, and she resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze.

Then he took her hand and smiled. “William. Or just Will.”

Something suspiciously like butterflies fluttered in her stomach. He had _dimples_ when he smiled, good god.

They stood there for some time, hands grasped and smiling like idiots, until the speakers rang through the terminal again, this time announcing the names of stragglers to board through gate 16. She jumped at the sound of her name and hastily pulled away, hoisting her purse over her shoulder.

“Well, Will. In return for my makeshift-pillow services, I think you can make good use of those arms of yours and lug my bag around for me.” She gestured to her luggage, a worn black duffel with a single blue tag on the handle. “Now, shall we make a run for it?” She said over her shoulder, already turned to go.

She didn’t need to wait. He kept pace with her easily, that ridiculous dimpled grin still on his handsome face as he carried both their luggage along as if they weighed like feathers.

He winked at her. “Please, lead the way.”

* * *

Stragglers that they were, they ended up being seatmates on the plane, and Will wasn't very subtle about pretending to fall asleep on her again either.

Riley found that she didn't mind at all.


End file.
